


Immovable Fate, Unstoppable Will - An Elder Scrolls Story of Control

by BranVil



Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-24
Updated: 2021-01-24
Packaged: 2021-03-16 21:42:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28963356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BranVil/pseuds/BranVil
Summary: She escaped a life of slavery, only to wake up to another. To live is to endure, struggle after struggle. That is what it means to be Argonian. The Argonian race has felt mistreatment and abuse throughout much of their history. An Argonian rising to prominence in a human or elf-dominated society was rare, almost unheard of. A child of the Hist, who escaped slavers in Morrowind, fled to northeastern Skyrim - only to find that her people, like everywhere else, continue to face similar struggles in the cities that are supposed to be their salvation. But what can she do? She is only one Argonian. To bide, to endure hardship, is to be Argonian.But what happens when an Argonian grows tired of waiting?DISCLAIMER: All aspects of The Elder Scrolls franchise depicted in this story, such as its characters, dialogues, settings, storylines, names, events, lore, and media are credited to Bethesda Game Studios. Any and all depictions of mods in this story, of the same criteria, are credited to their respective developers. The character Hurries-In-Water ("Harriet"), along with any original dialogue and events, is credited to the author.WARNING: The following story depicts strong language, violence, and suggestive themes.
Relationships: Inigo the Brave (Elder Scrolls)/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 2





	1. 1 - Frigid Waters

Tirdas, 8th of Evening Star, 4E 197

She was sure she was dead. She knew that the near-freezing waters of northern Eastmarch were a death trap. If the cold did not kill her, the slaughterfish would tear her to pieces. While she did not have to worry about drowning like the land-striders, it did not diminish the danger of Skyrim’s frigid waters. Her body temperature was especially vulnerable.

Yet, despite her knowledge of the risks, she had jumped in and swam as fast as her dropping body temperature would allow. In her mind, any punishment self-inflicted was better than the punishment she would have undergone if she was captured. She was slightly relieved to not hear any other crashes from above her - no one else had jumped in after her. Even her pursuers were wise not to test their mettle against the sheer cold of the land.

Her relief shifted back to fear and despair as the water began to slowly render her unconscious, her body forcing itself into hibernation - and eventually freeze into a deeper, permanent sleep. She swam with even more vigor, hoping to prove her fears wrong. Self-inflicted or not, death was the one punishment she was unwilling to experience. 

The murky waters, combined with her fading consciousness, made it nearly impossible to see anything around her. However, she could make out a ghost of an outline of multiple large curved things breaching the surface. As she struggled and swam closer, she noticed they were made of what appeared to be wooden planks - were they sea vessels? If so, she just might survive.

There was no time to continue speculating - she had to get a clear view, and that meant surfacing. Mustering the last of her strength, she swam upwards until her head broke though and her eyes beheld what she had desperately hoped for. Before her were great wooden ships and boats in front of a port! An enormous wall of stone loomed over the docks, and the docks themselves were littered with people - humans, elves, and even Argonians!

She no longer had the strength to verbally call out to them and get their attention. All she could do now was keep swimming - get as close as she could to the port, and hope that someone would notice and rescue her before she succumbs to the sea. With no more energy to swim efficiently, and fighting desperately to stay conscious, she weakly wriggled and flailed her body at the surface of the water, doing everything she could to get closer to land.

Despite her best efforts, she could not continue. The cold had sapped her very last ounce of will, and with her body no longer moving, she began to sink. As her eyelids slowly closed shut, she had finally resigned and was prepared to die. Just before she finally went unconscious, she bitterly thought about how close she was to surviving. Had she been able to struggle even a second longer, someone would have noticed… right? If she had let herself be captured earlier, she might have still been alive, even if it meant her suffering would have increased a hundred-fold. Oh well, was the only response she could fathom now. No amount of reflection was going to change the fact that she was going to die now.

She was out cold before she could feel someone else grab her from above and hoist her towards the surface.


	2. 2 - The Argonian Assemblage

Turdas, 10th of Evening Star, 4E 197

Shahvee burst out the door of the assemblage building into the port with an expression that could only mean a combination of shock, surprise, and relief. She quickly, but gently, closed the door behind her and immediately called over to a fellow Argonian from over the stairwell, who was sanding down wooden planks at a grindstone by the water.

“Neetrenaza! Come up here, quickly!” She beckoned him over, with extra vigor for emphasis.

Neetrenaza appeared both slightly annoyed and curious, but did not take his attention off the grindstone.

“What is it, Shahvee? I’m a little busy right now! The Shatter-Shields will start cutting my septims in half if I don’t get these planks exactly to their liking,” he said bitterly.

“The one you rescued is waking up! Come and see for yourself!” Shahvee exclaimed, growing more and more excited. “Marshes and Shallows are inside as well!”

Neetrenaza continued to work in silence for a moment, but then hesitantly got up from the grindstone, deciding he could resume his work later.

“Alright, no need to shiver your scales. I’ll attend to her, but only for a little bit. And we should all get back to work if we want to eat tonight,” he remarked. He set aside the planks and walked up the stairs until he found Shahvee holding the door open for him. The two of them entered their communal home and closed the door. 

Inside, Neetrenaza found Stands-In-Shallows preparing food, presumably for themselves and the rescued woman, over a large pit fire that provided most of the heat and light inside their crowded home. One of their beds was moved directly in front of the fire for added warmth. On this bed was an unconscious woman, who Neetrenaza fished out of the water two days ago. Scouts-Many-Marshes had propped a chair and was sitting next to the bed, watching over her closely.

The two other Argonians greeted Neetrenaza and Shahvee as they walked in. Shahvee immediately responded:

“How does our marsh-friend fare?”

“She’s almost just scales and bones! It’s a miracle she didn’t freeze to death out there. I fear to think what would have happened if Neetrenaza hadn’t jumped in when he did!” Marshes said.

“Well, I certainly didn’t enjoy the cold, and I now worry about having an extra mouth to feed, especially with how little the Nords pay us. But if we have any chance of getting away from this wretched place, we need to take care of our own,” Neetrenaza responded with an affirming nod.

“Hist preserve her, she’s a strong one. I imagine she’ll need quite the feast when she wakes up. Hopefully she can earn her share with us after she’s fully recovered,” chimed Stand-In-Shallows, as he dropped pieces of diced horker and ash yams into a pot of boiling water.

“I hope that day comes soon, but right now her survival is certainly something to give thanks. Oh, look! She’s waking up!” called Shahvee.

The young Argonian shifted her head and opened her eyes very slowly, just enough to see the faces huddled around her. At first, she dismissed them in her mind, thinking they were simply illusions to hide the fact that she was dead. However, more and more moments passed, and not only did the faces not disappear, but she could hear crackling nearby and a strange stillness that could only be stagnant air from inside a land-home. She also noticed that her surroundings felt warm. Why would she feel warm if she died in ice cold waters? She was sure she was dead!

Still exhausted from her near-death experience, she attempted to ask if she was dead, but was only able to let out a barely-audible groan. Her vision was still murky like the water she was in, but was able to make out flickering shadows cast up against a ceiling, probably from a nearby fire. She opened her mouth to speak again, only for another weak groan to escape. A female voice from the right side hushed her, with a scaly hand reassuringly resting on her upper arm.

“Do not push yourself, marsh-friend. Can you understand us? Blink twice.”

She could barely manage it, but she slowly closed her eyes, opened them, and repeated a second time. This was met with a collective sigh of relief from the murky faces around her. She heeded the voice’s advice and chose not to speak, knowing she barely had the strength to blink. Nonetheless, she was relieved to be experiencing some form of care. Either she was miraculously rescued, or the transition to the afterlife was rougher than she expected. A second voice, male, gently called from her left. She turned her eyes towards that direction, albeit very slowly.

“By the Hist, you nearly scared our scales off. We saw you just as you started to sink, and Neetrenaza was able to dive in and pull you out onto the docks. We thought you were dead, but still you breathe, thankfully!”

So she was rescued, after all! She would have celebrated had she not been so exhausted, but it was enough to feel great relief. Another male voice chimed from the right side, next to the female voice. Her eyes noticed a much taller figure, or perhaps they were simply standing while the others were sitting.

“I noticed how skinny you were when I brought you up from the waters. Even the fattest horkers hesitate to dive into Windhelm’s waters. You were ice cold - it’s a miracle you didn’t freeze solid.”

Another male voice called to her, but farther away. It also came from where the crackling sound was. She was hearing dings and bonks as well, like a wooden spoon hitting a metal pot.

“Speaking of horkers, I have some stew waiting for you. We do not have much, but this will hopefully help revive you, and even get some meat back on your bones!”

“Shallows, you never told me you were a cook! Heh, why don’t you cook for us every night?” replied the female, with a chuckle coming from her and the one beside her - the one that saved the bedridden Argonian. 

She heard small laughter come from all around her. Despite her current state, the laughter eased some of the tension she had from being practically resurrected. The smell of the horker and ash yam stew began to fill the room, along with her own nose. It smelled delicious! It was enough motivation for her eyes to widen, and take a better look at her surroundings.

As her vision slowly improved, she took in the details of the dwelling - the walls and ceiling around her were made entirely of stone bricks, supported by long, wooden beams. A chandelier of goat horn candles hung from the ceiling directly above her, although she was still too tired to be concerned about it falling on top of her. The floor consisted of wooden planks packed tightly together, save for a fire pit to her left, which, like the walls and ceiling, was made of stone (as it should be). A rudimentary cooking spit was installed over the fire, made of only a handful of metal bars that hung several pots over the flames. One of the Argonians was standing at the spit, stirring what she presumed was the delicious stew that roused her. What did they call him? Shallows? Shadows? Shallots? Her eyes could see, and her ears could hear, but her brain still had yet to catch up, and understandably so.

To her right, were three beds that lay side by side, which looked similar to the one she was using. Each of the beds had a small dresser at its foot, but while there were only three beds, there were four dressers. She deduced that the fourth bed was the one she was using. From that, she further deduced that they moved the bed closer to the fire to raise her body back to stable temperatures. At this point, the young Argonian’s brain was finally beginning to wake up with the rest of her body. 

Her observations resumed - several dusty cupboards lined the walls behind the three beds, and various cargo boxes with miscellaneous items littered throughout each corner of the room. In fact, the house she was in felt less like a house and more like a warehouse, but she had no reason to complain. She was warm, sheltered, and had food. And most importantly - not only did she seemingly escape from her pursuers, but she was surrounded by welcoming faces that saved her life. Fellow Argonian faces too, at that. This brought her a sense of familiarity that she found difficult to achieve with land-striders. Their abode was not particularly impressive, but it was the safest she felt in a very long time.

Before she could get a good look at the marsh-friends who rescued her, one of them announced to the others about resuming their work. They all began to exit the room, with the cold air sprinting past the open door, delivering a grim reminder to her of the fate she could have befallen. The one who was cooking just before took a pair of tongs and placed the pot on a metal rod facing away from the fire before finally exiting. The other woman turned back to her before leaving and spoke. From the bed, she was able to see that she sported forest-green scales with five horns facing backwards from the top of her head.

“Our apologies, egg-sister. We must get back to our work, if we wish to afford tonight’s dinner. In the meantime, you should keep resting in bed. If you’re well by sundown, we can all finally trade names and stories! I am Shahvee.”

She disliked not being able to verbally give thanks - instead, she slowly squinted and blinked, along with a small exhale to show her acknowledgement. Shahvee silently accepted with a nod, and then patted her arm again before finally leaving, and softly shut the door.

Now alone to her thoughts next to the fire, the bedridden girl tried to sleep, but found great difficulty doing so. As much as her body and mind yearned for rest, recollections of her narrow escape and near-death flooded back to her. She was going to explain it all to her newfound companions; it was the least she could do for saving her life.

She finally fell asleep under the warmth of the fire.


End file.
